Four months is a long time in Africa. In fact four months is a long time anywhere but, here especially, time seems to pass at a more unrelenting pace. When I left the small oceanside settlement of Kommetjie, Cape Town, in January to return to London it was under sunny skies, calm seas.
Today, four months on, I’m back in Cape Town and 24 hours into my 12-month stay, there is a very different feel. Grey skies bring torrential downpours from the deep low-pressure systems spinning north from the Antarctic – the same pressure systems that bring the monstrous swells which light up the various offshore reefs around Hout Bay, soon to host the Red Bull Big Wave Africa event. The laid-back atmosphere now carries with it an edge of concern following the violence that erupted around the country in recent weeks as locals turned on immigrants in the townships following disputes over employment.
Half a kilometre north along the coast road, beneath the enormous Slangkop Light House, lies a camp of 1,000 displaced Somalis sheltering in tents and hastily erected marquees. Until recently the camp numbered 3,000 and included immigrants from both Zimbabwe and Malawi, but they have now returned to their respective townships as the infrastructure began to fail in their absence hastening their recall. Only the Somalis remain and their future remains uncertain as the government stall. Constantly battling with the harsh elements, they are becoming increasingly frustrated and local volunteers now visit the site less and less frequently following a number of threats, some minor and others more serious. More alarmingly, there are rumblings from the local volunteers that the violence was no co-incidence and that paid muscle was used to act as a catalyst.
It is these thoughts that race through my mind as we speed towards the Masipumelele township to meet Thomas. I met Thomas two years ago through our local fixer Karen Aldrige. Karen has worked in the community for years and looks after a variety of development projects, she is accompanying me today to drop some football kits off with Thomas for his under 9’s and under 13’s.
“Is it safe?” I ask as we take a left into the township.
“Oh yes,” Karen replies, “there was an incident earlier I think, but that was this morning.”
As we slowly make our way along the narrow streets it is plain to see that township life in winter is hard. The streets are damp and muddy, the flimsy shacks put up a brave resistance against the wind and rain but everywhere you look there are buckets collecting drips and tarpaulins rigged over collapsed roofs. But no matter: speakers are rigged ready to blair out afro-beat, hip-hop, dub and, in one bizarre case, euro disco. Kids play games in the streets and burst into fits of dance as they meander passed the various sound systems, men fill the shabines and women huddle in the street talking in animated circles. Despite the drab conditions, there is a lot of life on show.
On arrival at Thomas’ we are greeted by 7 of his youth team. Including myself and Karen we make a group of ten and we fill Thomas’ small but comfortable shack from wall to wall. Stacked in the corner is a large stereo that pumps out a lazy dub beat and the boys chat excitedly in Xhosa as the new kits are handed out. We then head out onto the street and the guys take off into the township parading their new shirts. A little nervous at the attention we are now attracting, we are greeted only with smiles and waves and soon find ourselves chatting with some of the elders feeling welcome and at ease. We arrange some times with Thomas for beach training next week before jumping in the car and heading back to the main road. The afternoon has been a success with the locals showing us nothing but warmth and friendship despite their uncomfortable living conditions. I am instantly reminded why I am drawn back to South Africa year after year.
We pull out of the township and turn right back towards Kommetjie. Karen looks across. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at three and we’ll head over to the Somali camp.”
It’s going to be an interesting few months.
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